This revelation occurred to me just a few moments ago while reading the morning news on the Internet - very comfortably might I add - and my husband, Eric, lying beside me felt I needed to be more comfortable. He believed my neck wasn't resting against the head board correctly and wanted to reposition me with additional pillows. Despite my repeated protests to the contrary, he was prepared to move me anyway to a very uncomfortable position.
I'm smiling as I type this because my husband is merely trying to please me. How can I not love him for this? So, if my neck breaks because of his overly attentive affection, how can I not find it in my heart to forgive him?
There have been many nights, more so than I care to admit, that I have woken up with fat lips or black eyes. Eric isn't a wife beater. No. He's a restless sleeper in a queen sized bed with two small dogs wrapped between his legs. He doesn't simply roll over, he throws his entire body around which includes his knobby elbows. My face, unfortunately, has been the recipient of the ends of these body parts. How can I hold my bruises against him when he brings ice water up to me every night or sweetly swats at invisible spiders during my night terrors?
When I see an offending nose hair while waiting at a traffic light - you know what I'm writing about my friends - A hair that when you look at your loved one's profile you think, "How in God's name did he/she miss that horrifying thing when looking in the mirror today?" Inevitably, I can't resist the urge, reach over, and rip it out quickly before the light turns green.
"BITCH! You're killing me!"
"You know you love me. Besides, you look presentable now. You should be thanking me instead of yelling at me for Pete's sake. I'm hurt. Apologize, please."
"Well then, I don't forgive you."
"What?! Ok, I suppose love you."
"That's better. Maybe I'll talk to you later if you're nicer to me but if I see another one, I can't make any promises..."
Playing, whacking, and yelling bizarre names at one another is all part of what keeps the insanity of our marriage sane. A few minutes ago, when Eric called me a "Slut Muffin" and pinched me rather unceremoniously, I laughed out loud. My boys are at school. When I'm finished writing this blog, I'll wait until he's on a business call and pinch him back. Naughty? You betcha. Do we have a loving, strong, and healthy marriage? Absolutely.